


Prenderghostly

by Parapines



Category: ParaNorman
Genre: Gen, Prenderghastly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parapines/pseuds/Parapines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories set in the Prenderghastly AU.</p><p>When this was written it was mostly inspired by <a href="http://zombietracks.tumblr.com/post/37751807705/reverse-moms">mom-swap</a>, and the <a href="http://zombietracks.tumblr.com/post/39540638205/aggie-prenderghast-professional-butterfly-and">butterfly net Aggie and Salma art</a> by <a href="http://zombietracks.tumblr.com">zombietracks</a> </p><p>Additional notes can be found <a href="http://adimlytwistingplanet.tumblr.com/tagged/prenderghastly-rambings/chrono">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Us Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When this was written it was mostly inspired by [mom-swap](http://zombietracks.tumblr.com/post/37751807705/reverse-moms), and the [butterfly net Aggie and Salma art](http://zombietracks.tumblr.com/post/39540638205/aggie-prenderghast-professional-butterfly-and) by [zombietracks](http://zombietracks.tumblr.com)
> 
> 680 words, Aggie-centric, present day. (angst warning just in case).

Aggie ate her cereal slowly, bowl in her lap as she sat in front of the television. She really didn’t want to go to school today as today was the practice for the school play. She was suppose to be reading a good portion of the narration and Mrs. Henscher would expect her to have memorized the lines, but she’d forgotten till now.

Her mother walking into the room with a frantic sort of air, checking under things on the counter and shuffling the papers she’d left on the coffee table.

“Have you seen my car keys?” She asked even as she continued her search.

“She dropped them in her shoes, so she wouldn’t lose them.” A kindly voice spoke out, amused. “She’s always forgetting her safe places.”

“In your shoes mommy,” Aggie said absently, engrossed in the nature show she was watching. Monarch butterflies would fly miles and miles in the summer. She often wished she could too.

Her mother popped out of the room for a second and when she came back her key-ring was jingling in her hand. “Thanks love, I don’t know how I forgot. It’s good that you remembered for me.” The voice to Aggie’s left chuckled.

“Mm.” Aggie smiled at her mom, cereal finished.

“Did you want me to give you a ride to school sweet-pea?” She asked as she slipped on her coat.

“No, it’s ok.” Aggie said, getting up and taking her bowl out to the kitchen to get her own autumn gear on.

“Agatha, don’t forget to turn off the t.v. when you leave the room, remember?” Her mother chastised lightly as she did so and followed Aggie out of the living room.

“I was leaving it on for Da…” Aggie stopped herself from speaking when she realized what she was saying but her mom had already heard, and had stopped in her tracks, shock and sadness playing out on her face.

“Aggie, honey, your Dad isn’t here any more…” Agatha’s mom unfroze and leaned down to draw her into a hug. Aggie returned it, biting her lip. Her mom was smiling now for her but she knew how it hurt her when Aggie slipped up.

She hadn’t really understood at first. When she was younger, she saw people all the time that others couldn’t. Her parents had blamed it on her over-active imagination, but as she got older Agatha became more and more sure they were something else.

Then when she’d turned 9, and her father suddenly passed away. It had been a shock, no one had expected it and Agatha hadn’t even accepted it as reality when…he’d just strolled back in like nothing had happened.

She did know it it had happened, but even with all the limits it put on him she could almost pretend his death had never occurred. Except when she’d tried to talk to her mom about it.

Her mother hadn’t called her a liar like the kids at school did now, or gotten angry. But she’d just been so sad as she tried to explain the Aggie about death again, as if she hadn’t understood.

It had been terrible, at first she hadn’t realized but soon enough it became obvious it hurt her when Aggie talked about what dad had said about the show they were watching, and how he liked her new dress. Aggie’s heart ached to when she realize and so, eventually, she stopped talking about it. Stopped talking about any of it. But still she sometimes slipped up like now.

“I’m sorry mom.” She said and hugged back, tears prickling at her eyelids.

“Shh, shh, It’s okay.” Her mother rocked her in the circle of her arms. “It’s all right to miss him Aggie, but he’s in a better place now.”

No, he’s in the living room. Aggie longed to say, longed to find a way to show her mother, prove it. Have them be able to speak and to let her mother see him again.

But there was no way, none that Aggie knew, she didn’t even know why she could see him, or any ghosts at all. All that she could do was try harder not to say anything.


	2. After The Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggie-centric, present day, warnings for bullying. [art](http://adimlytwistingplanet.tumblr.com/post/45407965528/child-with-messy-hair)
> 
> 1577 words

Agatha huddled against the toilet tank. It had been a horrible day. After last night’s play she knew it would be bad but, it was normally bad. She hadn’t thought it could get much worse.

It had.

That morning there had still been the random trips and shoves in the hall on her way to her locker, but also hushed whispers, and outright taunting.

“It’s the witch! Run, she’ll curse you!” A boy yelled across the hall following it up with a mock scream of terror.

“What did the voices tell you Aggie…” She hated when they used her nickname, jeeringly. That shouldn’t be allowed.

She had opened her locker to stow her backpack and shut it with enough force the hinges rattled when she turned and saw Salma staring across at her from the other side of the hall, eyes probably on whatever words were scrawled across her locker today. She hadn’t bothered to check.

“Hey, witch-girl!” A hand slammed into the locker beside hers, arm blocking Salma from sight. “Got any more ‘predictions’? Seen any more ‘visions’?” She laughed and the group of girls that had closed in around Aggie laughed with her.

“I’ve got to, get to class…” Agatha kept her eyes low, speaking through gritted teeth. She hated this but it was four against one, and she knew better then to make it worse.

“Come on, don’t you want to tell us about the ‘curse’?” The older girl crossed her arms on her chest, “You seemed to want everyone to know yesterday.” The bell rang, signalling the start of first period.

“I just, I’m going to be late…” Aggie started to tremble a little, feeling cornered, and angry. She looked up past them to where Salma had been standing, but she was gone. Agatha looked away, stunned by the hurt she felt over that. “Leave me alone.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” The girl’s tone was mocking. “I thought you liked the attention anyway, with all the ghost talk and your sparkly little butterfly clip.” She said, pulling the latter from her hair before Aggie could react.

“No, stop! Give it back!” Agatha dropped her books and lunged but the older girl was much taller and danced out of her reach.

“I don’t think it suits you.” She laughed, “It’s pretty tacky though,” Agatha jumped for it again, but one of the other girls grabbed her arm.

With a look of malice in her eyes the girl holding the clip drew her hand back and Aggie watched in horror as it was tossed up into the air, sailing as if in slow motion until it hit the wall and dropped like a stone into the trash.

“Have it back if you want it so bad.” The girl laughed shoving a still paralysed Aggie into her locker. “Witch.”

As soon as she came to herself, Agatha didn’t even wait for them to be down the hall before going into the trash-can for it. It was early in the day so it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but she still had gum attached to her sweater and hair by the time she found it, pulling it out. The girls cat-called from down the hall, calling her dirty, gross and other things she barely heard.

Now she sat, locked in the bathroom stall, clip clutched in her fingers. It was broken, but she could fix it, maybe. She wanted to just go home and try but she’d have to wait for the end of first period to sneak away.

Her dad would tell her it was all right, but she knew it would hurt him to see it broken. It was a gift from him after all, a good memory, from back when everything had still been okay.

Agatha slammed her hand into the stall wall with a muffled shriek. It wasn’t fair. Why was this happening? She’d seen ghosts before sure, and people knew, because she’d been careless. But never anything like Sunday night, never anything that made her question her own sanity and make her do something as out of character as to shout it out to the world.

She was saved from her contemplation by a rustling sound and quickly glanced up to see the toilet roll move in a strangely lazy arc. Her eyes widened warily, a clinking sound followed and she realized the tiles were moving. Before she knew it she was standing, hands braced on the sides of the stall as the walls moved in and out with an unseen force. Not again, not this again.

“Stop!” Aggie yelled.

Suddenly everything was quiet, Aggie’s pulse beat loudly out into the stillness.

Then, a flash of light. She turned her head away quickly an brought her hands up to block it out instinctively, slowly pulling them away as it dimmed.

“You died?” She asked, questioned startled out of her as she saw the scowling face of her Great Uncle, Mr. Babcock, floating before her. 

“Well, yeah.” He let out an exasperated sigh at her observation. His ghost seeming to be just as sour as the man had been while living.

“Well, what are you doing here? This is the girl’s bathroom.” Aggie said, sounding scandalized as she got over her surprise. “Get out!!” She lobbed an eraser from her pocket at his head but it sailed on through.

“Hold on, hold on. I’m here to give you a message.”

“I don’t want any more messages, or to do any more favours or anything!’ Agatha burst out, pulling at her own hair. It was always like this, no matter how she was feeling because she could see them, the dead would always come to her with all of their problems. It could be small pointless messages she’d be shouted at for delivering by the departed’s loved ones or complex tasks she had no hope of completing. It didn’t matter if she was sad or angry or just wanting some time to herself. 

“I just want all of this to stop.” Agatha admitted aloud for the first time, her voice rising, her frustration and anger showing through her tone. “why can’t any of you understand that!” 

At her shout, the lights flickered and sparked out, making Mr. Babcock flinch and back away. Aggie felt suddenly sick. She wobbled a bit on her feet and grabbed for the stall wall before she fell, steadying herself. When she felt like she could move without falling she sat down on the edge of the toilet tank, heart beating a staccato against her rib cage. She drew in a shaky breath.

“It won’t stop, unless you do what I say.” Mr. Babcock said, his voice barely above a whisper. Agatha looked up at him, his spirit the only light in the small stall.

“You’ve been seeing things other then ghosts recently, bad omens, warnings…” The man went on, “Glimpses into a past that isn’t your own…”

“Are you the one who’s doing this?” Agatha asked, her voice too shaky to hold any real anger, head pulsing in a strange sort of headache.

Mr.Babcock shook his head, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“It’s the witch’s curse.”

“The witch’s…? But that’s just a stupid story.” Agatha wasn’t in the mood to be teased by a ghost of all things, not after this morning.

“Yes, and all legends are based on something.” Mr. Babcock’s eternally tried patience seemed to be wearing thin.

“Yeah, like kids making things up.” 

“Just, listen.” He said with a long suffering sigh. “You can stop the curse, and with it the visions that you’ve been having.” He paused and gazed at her with his weather beaten, translucent face.

Agatha dug her nails into her thighs and resigned herself to listening, as she always did.

—-

The bathroom door slammed open and Aggie stomped out into the hall, in a rush to get out of there. When Mr. Babcock had finished speaking he had faded away. Finding peace in passing the buck, she thought cynically. 

“Agatha!” A voice called out from down the hall but Aggie kept up her pace, realizing who it belonged to. “Aggie, wait!” She only stopped when Salma grabbed at her sleeve.

“What?” She ground out between clenched teeth, wanting to just be home already, away from all that had happened today. 

Salma looked upset, her tone losing it’s usual brisk business like quality. “I was worried, I saw what happened and I-“

“You left.” Aggie interrupted, her head down, staring at the floor. Left hand clenched around the broken clip, a reminder. She shook off Salma’s grip on her sleeve and started walking again.

“Aggie, wait!” Salma called out, “I’m sorry, I was-“

“I don’t care!” Agatha turned and yelled, not caring if anyone else heard as she drowned out Salma’s excuses. “We aren’t project partners any more so you don’t need to talk to me!” 

It had been foolish to think they were anything else, it wasn’t as if Salma had called them friends after all. The plastic bit into the palm of Aggie’s hand, stirring up the hurt and firming her resolve.

“Just leave me alone!” 

She didn’t look back as she ran out, not wanting to see, no, not caring to see Salma’s reaction. It didn’t matter. They hadn’t really been friends anyway so it shouldn’t hurt.

She wondered how many times she’d have to tell herself before it was true.


End file.
